


Who was this Bob guy again?

by thunderbird_dragon



Category: thunderbirds are go
Genre: Father Christmas - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:23:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderbird_dragon/pseuds/thunderbird_dragon
Summary: A simple mission for International Rescue ends up with them all poisoned and in a desperate state but who was in a position to help them this far north and on Christmas Eve.





	Who was this Bob guy again?

**Author's Note:**

> My offering for the Christmas Season, the child in me always believes.

 

“No, we are good to go Brains!” Scott said, overriding the warning that had come from Tracy Island.  “We’re all in double breathers and don’t have much choice here.  We can see the kids at the top but it’s all unstable, there’s so little time for anything else!”

Any other time, they might have attempted to sure up the rickety, disused chemical stack and attempt the rescue from above with TB2 but there really wasn’t time, a matter of seconds.  Alan and Gordon had already begun to pick their way up through the smoke filled labyrinth of tube ways to the top, on their hands and knees, feeling their way forward.  They had already lost valuable time as Alan kept slipping on the surface of the tube walls. Convinced by the others that his space gloves weren’t so good for gripping, he had cut the fingers off off his gloves the same as Scott, Virgil and Gordon all did, to give him better grip and was fast catching Gordon up.  Virgil stood inside at the bottom, the smoke swirling around him, as he feed out the lifelines he’s made them both wear – just in case.

“You can’t see your hand in front of your face!” Gordon called back, wiping the smoke residue from his visor.

Virgil decided. “Then you best take the kids down the outside!” He turned to see Scott approaching the entrance, ready to start climbing too. “Scott, they are coming down outside - best you wait for them there!”

Alarm bells were starting to ring in Scott’s head. They had no idea yet about this old chemical plant, John was still working on it.  It was evident that the children had no right being there, but he guessed it had be a hangout for years for youngsters. They had probably started the fire, maybe by accident, but the smoke was black, even where Scott was standing. International Rescue had encountered smoke before on many, many occasions and had the very best of protective gear to deal with it but Scott felt he could smell this smoke, he shouldn't be able to – that just wasn’t right.

Inside the stack, Gordon and Alan got to the kids very quickly, and on drop lines, threaded them down to the icy ground outside to safety.

“We just can’t thank you enough!”  The parents were there with the local police and paramedics.  A throng of joyfully relieved people were all around them, wishing them Merry Christmas and offering them warm spiced drinks before they left – but it was Christmas Eve and they needed clear heads if they were going to get home for it.

They chose the quickest route home, engine’s roaring, with any luck John would already be there.  He’d be making his own infamous hot rum toddies for them and maybe they could have enough time to enjoy some of the holiday before another rescue came in.

Scott thought he must already be getting into the spirit of things.  He was feeling ‘jolly’!  That was the only way he could describe it, light headed, when the call came from TB2

“Scott, I’m putting down, both Alan and Gordon are out cold and I’m not feeling so…”

“Virgil?  Virgil!” Scott headed back to their last coordinates while John checked out TB2

“It looks as though Virgil had already put Alan in the standard recovery position and was attempting to do the same for Gordon, when he too had collapsed.  Scott, their vitals are steady but so low, and there’s no movement from any of them!” The concern was clear in John’s voice, the agony he usually felt at being too far away to be able to help.

Scott acknowledge John and added reassuringly, “I can see TB2 now, I’m just landing, don’t worry, I’m on it!”

But it just gave John even more cause for concern - were Scott’s words slurred?  He moved to check Scott’s vitals, everything seemed okay, a slight rise in heart rate maybe, but then he was probably already trudging through the snow to get to their brothers.  He monitored them all closely.

Scott was strangely aware of the cold, of the light, of the odd crispness in his vision, his footsteps felt peculiarly floating. Inside TB2, he found Virgil, Alan and Gordon as John had described in the cockpit, his head swimming as he leaned over to start checking them.

The voice he heard was distanced, it seemed to him to be someone shouting down a long pipe.

“Hello, are you alright there?”  Then, footsteps as the caller made his way up, using the gangways instead of the lifts to the cockpit.  He poked his head round the door and spotted Scott, whose eyes were half shut, as he swayed precariously over the others.  

It seemed instantly obvious to the stranger that this still conscious one cared for these others.

“My brothers!” was all Scott managed.

“Oh no worries, I know who you are!”  The man came closer and Scott’s abnormal eyesight focused intently on him.  He was an older man, slightly overweight but with a kindly face, could Scott trust him? He was running out of options, his head was losing the battle to stay awake.  Nervously, he tapped his comms.  

“John, we have…” his voice dropped away as he sat back heavily beside Virgil and Gordon.

“Scott!” John was trying to see more but couldn’t widen his view any further, he was taken aback by the stranger whose round face pushed into the comms view.

“Can I help?”  The stranger asked.  He turned his attention to Scott first, who was slumped back on the bulkhead, his head at an awkward angle, his breathing steady but low.  The stranger pulled him level and carefully rolled him into a safe position.  “This one, Scott you called him?  There doesn’t seem to be any injuries.”  He moved easily over to Virgil to check him too.

John had little choice but to trust this man, “They had all complained of feeling giddy, or lightheaded, moments before they all went out.”  He offered.

Virgil groaned as he was turned over, the stranger checked him over with a professionalism that made John suspect that he may have medical training.

“You seem to know what you’re doing, Mr…?”  John observed.

“Oh, Bob!  Just call me Bob, and yes, I’ve taken some training.  I felt it was important living up here, it’s a bit isolated and its hours to the nearest doctors.  My wife and I live up here most of the year round so it’s practical to have some knowledge.”  He was hanging over Gordon now, checking back and forth from him to Alan.  “These two are worse!  This one,” Bob indicated Gordon, “Is breathing very low.  Do you have oxygen, he needs it urgently?”

John indicated the sick bays facilities and Bob soon had oxygen into the two youngest brothers, now on their backs as a gentle hand rested on each of their abdomen to check that the oxygen was getting down into their lungs.  He upped the pressure on the oxygen a little and checked again.  John thanked him quietly, Bob smiled up an acknowledgement and reassured John that the boys were in the best of care.

Scott was stirring, “John!” he half called automatically as his eyes opened, unable to focus on anything now or understand what was happening about him, all he knew was the frustration of not being able to protect the others.

“Steady there, young Scott!”  Bob leaned back to check him over.  

“Scott, this is Bob, he’s been caring for you all.” John was trying to work with what information he had, going through the little data he could glean.  “Bob, could I ask you to take some swabs for me?”

Bob, bless him, moved swiftly around the sleepers and the semi-sleepers, taking saliva swabs along with others from their skin and the surfaces of their uniforms.  Following John’s instructions carefully as he dropped the swabs into the on-board analyser and then went back to watching his patients as John ran the tests.

Virgil began to move, pulling his shoulders up off the deck, vaguely wondering who this stranger might be, looking across at Scott then towards Gordon and Alan.  

“How are you feeling?” Bob asked.

Virgil cocked his head to one side, trying to work out just what had been said to him but managed the right answer, “Groggy, what the hell happened to us?”

Scott smiled, trust Virgil to ask that first, not who the hell are you?  “John and Brains are trying to work that out.  This is Bob,” he introduced the stranger, “He came to help from…”  He really didn’t know where Bob had come from.

“Oh, I have a house about 200 yards away, you almost landed on my livestock here!  I was just coming out to get them.”  He smiled warmly at his own thoughts and added, “My wife and usually go visiting Christmas Eve, but it’s quite a journey to our nearest neighbours.  We were really taken aback when you landed.  I know who you are, you’re International Rescue! Just because I live so far north doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are, you know!”  And he chuckled warmly. “These two look a bit healthier now, a better colour.” He leaned over and felt the pulse of Alan.

Scott smiled at him, “Thanks, I’m not sure quite what might have happened to us tonight if you hadn’t been here!”  His head was swimming, more now with the fears, the what ifs.

Virgil was heaving himself over close to Gordon.  “This is better?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm, his brother was still so pale, “What was he like before?”  Bob eyed him levelly – said nothing – and a chill ran through Virgil’s spine.  “And Alan?”

Bob wasn’t much more optimistic about Alan’s chances if he hadn’t been there.  With no one conscious to tend to them, who could tell.

Virgil held out his hand to Bob, “Then thank you.  It doesn’t seem enough just to say thanks but thank you anyway.”

John had left his comms open throughout the whole 20 minutes or so that they were there.  He finished his analysis and offered, “In the residue of the smoke are micromolecules of a strong neurodisrupter, something the old chemical works produced 40 years ago.  During the fire, we are thinking it was released from the stack wall, into the smoke. I’m getting the kids from the rescue checked at the same time but it seems, where they were on the roof in the fresh air, they only have slight effects.  How are Gordon and Alan now?”

“Alan’s coming round now,” Bob said brightly, as he pointed to Alan for confirmation that he had the right name for the right boy, Scott nodded.  “Gordon’s still out of it!”  

“Hmm, initially, Brains and I thought it might have been the differences in our uniforms, or perhaps the length of time you were each in the smoke that might have contributed to the affects you each felt.” John’s voice was matter-of- fact but it all made sense.  “We both agree that this type of molecule might be absorbed by Gordon’s wetsuit uniform, but no-one else’s.  Brains, though, is much more adamant that the main contributors to all this, was you, yourselves!”

Scott and Virgil frowned at each other, both mouthing “What?”

“Brains is seriously pissed with you all!  Me, I’m perfect of course!  He’s been ranting that he makes the most beautifully crafted protection suits, purpose made for each of us – and you guys, cut off the finger tips of your gloves so you get better grip – he is positive that the neuro-disrupter entered your systems through the skin.”

Bob looked up at their gloves and sure enough, each of them had their fingers showing.  He raised an eyebrow at the two older brothers.  “Maybe you ought to take notice of this Brains chap!”  And he smiled warmly.

Scott struggled to his feet, “Maybe so!”

Virgil leaned over to put an arm round Alan, “You okay now?”

Alan had no idea.  “I feel like I’ve had too much of Grandma’s eggnog, did I miss Christmas?”

“No, not yet, Kiddo,” Scott had come to squat beside him, “Though if we don’t get home soon, we all might!”  Scott was smiling that supposedly reassuring smile, the one that scared them more, because it always meant they were in a worse condition than they realised.

Scott braced a knee against the bulkhead to steady himself to scoop up Alan, “Okay, let’s get you into sick bay.”

Virgil shook his head, “No, better if they’re up front with me, I can keep an eye on them.” And to John he asked, “Are we going home or to the nearest hospital,” imagining yet another holiday, waiting anxiously beside hospital beds.  He had his hand on Gordon’s side, still not convinced that he looked ‘better’.

John took a moment to decide on the data.  “Home, Virgil, even Gordon’s vitals are coming up now. He and Alan just need to sleep it off.”

Virgil grunted his approval, he was here on the ground, his fingers checking Gordon’s pulse, home was best for them both.  He struggled up on his knees and went to lift Gordon, - Whoa-ha!!”  as he toppled forward, neatly caught by an extremely agile Bob.

“Steady now,” Bob advised and he waited until Virgil was stable again.  “I’ll get Gordon for you.”

As Bob’s small rounded hands slid under Gordon to lift him, he stirred just a little, his brown eyes opening, suddenly aware of the closeness of the stranger. In bemused childlike wonder he smiled up into Bob’s face and he pulled the breather down, muttering, “I know you!”

Vigil’s face swam into his reeling vision, “Sorry Gordon, but I don’t think you do, this is Bob.  Now, how you doing?” but the eyes were closed, not to be seen again until half way through Christmas morning.

Secured into the cockpit seats, the two younger Tracy boys were checked one last time before Scott and Virgil went to say a farewell to Bob.

“We just can’t thank you enough!” Scott was shaking his hand with such genuine sincerity, aware that he had used the same words as the parents had at the stack rescue.  Starkly aware that his own family had just been rescued by a stranger that had come from now-where – now he knew how it felt!

Virgil was looking curiously over to the farm house that Bob called home, the lights in the windows looking so inviting, smoke curling from the chimney.  The place looked idyllic, a proper Christmas card of a house.  

“Have we held you and your wife up too much from your plans tonight?” Virgil asked, then offered, “We could give you a lift, if it would help?”

Bob laughed warmly, “No, no, that’s so kind, but we always like to do it the old traditional way by sleigh, we really look forward to it!” And he pointed to the livestock standing in the pen behind them, quietly untroubled by the presence of TB2 in their enclosure.

Reindeer!

Scott shot Virgil a queried look, but Virgil just smiled back mildly, shaking his head at Scott to  _get real_.

“Well, thank you again and remember, if EVER you need us, just call – we owe you so much!” Virgil smiled as they turned to go.

Bob waved from the pen as the two craft lifted off the snow and turned elegantly, to speed off towards warmer climes and their own Christmas.

By lunchtime, the Tracys had all gathered in their main room, enjoying some well-earned family time.  Gifts were exchanged, the most poignant being new uniform gloves for all the brothers from Brains – he said nothing, but the message was clear!

Gordon had been unusually quiet, initially his family thought it was to be expected perhaps, but then Alan was bouncing off the walls as normal.

It was John, who had been observing his brother for a while, that came and sat neatly beside him, “You okay now?”  

Gordon nodded, though he obviously wasn’t.  He didn’t want to, but eventually he turned to John and asked, “Who was that guy with the beard again?”

“What beard?”

“Bob’s!”

John squinted at him, he placed a cooling hand to his brother’s forehead, “You know, I’m not so sure you are clear of the effects from last night.”  He tilted his brother’s head up to check his eyes but Gordon pulled away.

“That’s what Virgil said!”  Gordon was agitated, “I tell you – he had a beard!”  His voice had risen enough for the others to turn towards him.

Scott, his head cocked to one side in thought, came to sit close, “Gordon, you only saw him for a moment and you were so sick, trust me, he had no beard.”

Alan was looking from one brother to another, trying hard to visualise the face of their hero of the night before, the round happy face of the man who had made sure they were able to  _have_  a Christmas.  He got up quickly and came to slide between Scott and Gordon despite there being no gap, his arm protectively round his confused brother.  Alan was so unsure himself, surely Bob  _did_  have a beard?

Virgil came to knee in front of them all, his hands heavily on Gordon’s knees, his authority to take a proper medical look at his brother very evident.  Gordon, understanding that he wasn’t going to be able to avoid it now that Virgil was involved, lifted his head and allowed Virgil to check his eyes and reactions, as John had wanted to.  Virgil was meticulous, turning his head this way and that, tapping his skin in places, peering into his eyes and then smiling understandingly at Gordon, he announced. “You’re okay, Squid!” He reached out and pulled Gordon forward to rest his head on Virgil’s shoulder.  “It was a very strange night… And if you say Bob had a beard, then he had a beard.”

**_Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from the Thunderbird-Dragon xxxxx_ **

**Author's Note:**

> This was written two Christmases ago and I've found it really interesting two years later to see just how much my writing style has changed. I was really proud of this story back then, now it seems a little stilted, with long abrupt sentences - funny how we change and develop!


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